


Put the Gun Down

by glowystars325



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season 11, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowystars325/pseuds/glowystars325
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song fic to Andy Black's "Put the Gun Down".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put the Gun Down

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts. Take care of yourself first. If you haven't heard the song, go listen to it.

_ Here's where it starts. _

_ Another night alone in the dark _

_ Hate is running through my veins  _

_ Steady now I'm taking aim  _

 

    Tears fell from hazel eyes as the hunter tugged on his hair. His room was softly lit by a small lamp, shadows crawling up the walls and across the floor. Dean was out at some bar trying to get laid. Sam’s breathing hitched as he choked on a sob. He couldn't keep doing this every goddamn right. 

  _Dean doesn't love you. You're own brother wants nothing to do with you. He’s trying to get rid of you. No one wants you around. The world is better without you there to screw it up. Do it. Just do it._ Sam let out a harsh, “Fuck this.” His breathing was coming in short bursts, never fully filling his lungs. He stood up quickly and started to pace. One hand continued to tug on his long brown hair as the other covered his mouth to muffle his sobs.

Sam bit back a scream and yanked open the drawer of his nightstand. He found his folded suicide note through his watery vision and placed it on the pillowcase. He sobbed loudly before pulling out his gun.

The weight of the silver handle was familiar in his hand, almost a comforting weight. The safety was flicked off effortlessly as he put the barrel of the gun to his temple. The cold of the metal sunk into his skin and down his spine. Long fingers shook as they gripped tighter and one slipped on to the trigger.

 

_ The darkness of day _

_ All the skies are turning to grey _

_ I can't tune the voices out _

_ How'd they get so goddamn loud? _

 

Sam bit his lip harshly as he tried to calm his breathing. He could do it. He could silence the voice in his head. It was right, he'd be better off dead. _Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. End it now. Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. One last good deed. Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger._ His mind screamed at him, drowning out anything else.

   The mantra wouldn't let up. Sam screamed at himself, “Do it you fucking coward! Just do it!” He tried to take a deep breath, but the air only came in in shakey rounds. He just wanted the pain to end. No more tears. No more feeling unloved and unwelcomed. No more waking up after restless nights with a hollow heart. His index finger tapped the trigger lightly as Sam continued to pace his room. How’d he even come to this? How did he manage to fall so far?

 

_ Oh, ‘cause there's a side, _

_ Another side of me that can't get out _

_ A darker side that no one knows about  _

 

         Sam was smart. He knew how to hide his depression from everyone he encountered. Even Dean was fooled by his performance. Dean chalked up any oddities to headaches or lack of sleep. When he slipped up, his brother accepted his lies without question as he poured himself a glass of whiskey or grabbed a beer. He didn’t have time to notice the rapid downwards spiral Sam got himself into. They had to figure out how to beat Amara, and nothing was working.

          Castiel was in the dark too. At least he was until Lucifer possessed him. It’s not like the devil cared about his feelings. The damn bastard tortured him for centuries. Chuck - fucking God - was staying with them and he didn’t even seem to notice. He knew, Sam was sure of it, but he didn’t care. Why would he? He was just the idiot that let out the darkness.

 

_ Can anybody hear me? _

_ Can anybody see me? _

_ ‘Cause I think I lost my way _

_ Put the gun down, just put the gun down  _

 

         Sam barely knew who he really was anymore. He was so used to acting like he was fine and dandy, he couldn’t recognize his own reflection.  He let out another loud sob and tugged on his hair harshly. Sam cried, part of him begging for someone to hear him, hear his pain. Why couldn’t somebody see the destructive path he was on? Why couldn’t someone see through the lies he told? He felt so lost and broken. He just wanted the pain to end. If it meant he’d have to end it with a bullet, so be it. A blood splatter bring the only bit of him left would be good enough for him. Billie would make sure he wouldn’t come back.  _ Like anyone will actually try to bring you back? Dean still doesn’t care enough about you to care about the amulet. _

          It killed Sam when Dean went off on him about it after he found it. To him, it was a worthless hunk of metal. To Sam, Dean was telling him that he was worthless. They screamed at each other until Chuck intervened. Dean threw the amulet away again as he stormed off in search of alcohol. The younger hunter barely kept it together long enough to fish it out again and run off to his room. That was the first time he held a gun to his head. 

 

_ Will anybody watch me? _

_ Is someone gonna stop me? _

_ This could be my last mistake  _

_ Put the gun down, just put the gun down, down _

 

          Where was Dean when he needed him? Maybe if someone was there with him, he’d be okay.  _ No one loves you. Just pull the fucking trigger. Do it you coward. One shot and it’ll all be over.  _ More tears dripped off his chin as he tried to keep it together long enough to end his life.

           He wasn’t strong enough to save himself. Sam just wanted someone to step in and save him. He’d even take Lucifer at this point. Just somebody to stop him and tell him it was a mistake. He wanted a gentle hand to pull his arm down and take the gun from his hand. Warm hands wrapped around his torso as he cried were just a far fetched dream. Somebody wasn’t going to save him. Somebody wasn’t going to step in. If no one was going to save him, it was all up to him. He could end his life. He could spare his life. Sam felt like he was trapped in Hell. How could he survive this constant torment?

 

_ Here's where it ends. _

_ I'm never going back there again  _

_ ‘Cause everytime I'm standing by, _

_ There's shadows in my line of sight  _

 

          Lungs were tight, throat aching from suppressed wails. His heart was shattered, far beyond repair as a small voice spoke up in his mind.  _ Wait a minute, just a minute. Think Sammy, is this really what you have to do? _ It sounded exactly like Dean, but Dean didn’t care anymore. Nobody cared anymore. Dean would rather be neck deep in hookers and booze than stay up with Sam when he needed it most. Sam was bitter, he wasn’t afraid to admit it. His brother stopped caring long ago.

         Everything was harder alone. Everything was harder in the dark. Both was a new level of impossible. He learned that his first year in Stanford when he had no friends and no family to care if he offed himself. At least then he was brave enough to try and overdose. More often than not, he wished he had succeeded. The world would have been better off.

 

_ When does it stop? _

_ ‘Cause I'm living cold and shut off _

_ Even when I clench my fists _

_ It's slipping through my fingertips  _

 

         Would the pain ever end? It was relentless. Sam tried to be happy, but it never lasted. The cold and emptiness inside kept all the warmth away. No amount of effort helped. The little specks of happiness he managed to grasp fluttered away in the wind only moments later. The struggle never stopped. The darkness in him never ended. Darkness so thick, light couldn’t hope to penetrate it.

 

_ Oh, ‘cause there's a piece, _

_ There's a piece of me that's missing now _

_ Yeah there's a piece of me that's breaking down  _

 

          His heart and soul were no longer whole. There were giant chasms between crumbling remains, tainted with sadness. He was a used and broken toy, long forgotten and tossed aside. No one wanted to play with a broken toy. He was just the ratty old teddy bear, missing and eye and an ear, thrown in the back of a closet to collect dust for eternity. His carefully constructed walls were weak from constant emotional warfare. They were weak and failing as every fortified brick was chipped away. 

 

_ Can anybody hear me?  _

_ Can anybody see me? _

_ ‘Cause I think I lost my way. _

_ Put the gun down, just put the gun down _

 

          Sam let himself fall to the hard cement floor as silent sobs escaped his lips. One hand kept the gun under his chin as the other desperately clutched at worn denim clad knees. His knuckles were white with the strength of his grip. Sam could almost swear he heard the bones creaking as they rubbed against each other. Where was Dean? Why couldn’t Bobby be with him right now? Why was he stuck in heaven when it was Sam that deserved to die? 

         The father figure always knew how to help. On bad nights, he’d keep Sam from shutting himself down and insisted they all spent quality time together. Bobby never said anything, but Sam was sure that he knew Sam was mildly suicidal for years. God, he wished Bobby was here now. It’d make things so much easier and maybe Sam wouldn’t be holding a gun, ready to pull the trigger. 

 

_ Will anybody watch me? _

_ Is someone gonna stop me? _

_ This could be my last mistake  _

_ Put the gun down, just put the gun down _

 

       The gun slipped from his grip slightly, before the hunter tightened his hand and moved it back to his temple. His nose was buried in the gap between his knees as he sniffled. Dean’s voice rang out in his mind again.  _ Come on Sammy. You can do this. It’s you and me against the world. You can’t quit on me now baby bro. I can’t do this without you. Put the gun down baby boy. Keep fighting. I know you can do it. Don’t leave me, Sammy. _ The weary man slowly relaxed his arm and let the silver pistol dangle in his grip.  _ That’s it Sammy, you’ll be okay.  _ Sam wiped at his eyes before pushing himself off the cool stone. His right hand still loosely held onto his weapon.

 

_ That's when I look myself in the mirror  _

_ Now I'm seeing things a little clearer  _

_ Honest, I can't hide _

_ What's inside me. _

 

         The hunter walked over to his dresser where his brother hung up a small mirror. His hair was a mess, random bits skewed and out of place. His hazel eyes looked dead and broken, the little spark of life that used to be behind them was long ago snuffed out. He looked completely broken and defeated. Shoulders sagged from the weight of the world resting on them. He didn't want to feel so broken and useless. He never asked to feel so worthless and unloved. He wanted someone to tell him he was important and needed. He didn't just want it, he needed it.

 

_ I said I'm tired of pointing the finger _

_ Tired of this hand holding the trigger  _

_ Now I'm done with that. _

_ I gotta take one step back _

 

           Sam looked down at the weapon in his hand. Suddenly it felt ten times heavier. Tears still rolled down his cheeks in a slow but steady manner and Sam sniffled loudly. The hunter looked back at his reflection as he took in a shaky breath of air.  _ You can do this, Sammy.  _ His head nodded to the voice in his head and stepped away from the mirror. A step followed and he was closer to the door. Step. Step. Another step.

 

_ Can anybody-? _

_ Can anybody hear me? _

_ Can anybody see me? _

_ Cause I think I lost my way. _

_ Put the gun down, just put the gun down. _

 

         Dean walked into the bunker and nodded to Chuck. “Any news with Amara?”

        The curly haired man shook his head, “Not yet. You need to sober up.” Dean opened his mouth to speak when Chuck snapped his fingers and the buzz he had going vanished, “I did all I could. You have to do the rest.”

         Dean glared at him, “What the hell dude? Why did you kill my bu- Sammy?” His little brother stepped into the room and Dean didn't like what he saw. His big brother instincts kicked in and he quickly moved to be right in front of him. “What happened? Fuck, you're crying. What's wrong?”

        “C-can we talk? Uhh… alone?” Sam asked timidly as he looked at his sock covered feet. He fought to keep his tears at bay, but it was a lost cause.

        “Yeah. Come on,” Dean cleared his throat before speaking. He put an arm around Sam and lead him to his room.

 

_ Will anybody watch me? _

_ Will anybody save me? _

_ This could be my last mistake. _

_ Put the gun, just put the gun down, down _

 

       Dean sat on the bed and pulled his giant little brother down next to him. Sam sobbed into his shoulder as one hand clutched at his jacket. Dean wasn't too proud to admit that his heart was breaking. “Sammy… Sammy, what's wrong? You're scaring me, baby boy.”

      Sam pulled out his gun and handed it to his brother. “K-k-keep it.”

       The older man didn't like any of the conclusions his mind was going to. He stood up and looked at Sam, “Why are you giving me your gun?” His only response was to shake his head. Dean let out a soft sigh, “Fuck. Tell me you weren't planning on putting a bullet in your head.” Sam froze and Dean felt his heart stop, “Answer me. Were you going to kill yourself?”

      Sam bit his lip tightly for a moment as he looked at his hands. He slowly nodded, “Yes. I-I still want to.” 

      Tears sprang to green eyes. He took the gun and put it on his nightstand before wrapping his brother up in his arms. On hand rubbed his shaking shoulders and the other played with the long brown hair. He tried to take deep and steady breaths to keep from losing the little control he had left. Dean placed a soft kiss on the chestnut hair, “Talk to me Sammy. I want to know everything.”

 

_ Here's where it starts.  _

_ Another night alone in the dark. _

_ Hate is running through my veins  _

_ Steady now I'm taking aim. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. :)


End file.
